


Brand New Day

by Scifigirl1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifigirl1986/pseuds/Scifigirl1986
Summary: Two months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron have broken up and she’s on her own, living at The Leaky Cauldron because her parents haven’t forgiven her for erasing their memories of her. She runs into Draco, who has been ordered to intern with a muggle doctor as part of his rehabilitation, and she realizes that he’s not the person she always believed him to be. Soon enough they’re spending more and more time together, so when they return for a final year at school it is as a full fledged couple, but the real world threatens to get in the way of their happily ever after. As the school year goes on, a neo-Death Eater organization starts going after muggle-born students and they want Draco to join them. He doesn’t want to, but a request from Harry and the Ministry sends him undercover within the group m—will he be able to resist everything he once believed? Will his newfound love for Hermione survive?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was bored. It was bound to happen sometime—it wasn’t as if she’d spent the last seven years of her life twiddling her thumbs, so now that things have calmed down, it only made sense that boredom would set it. She just wished it hadn’t happened so quickly. Just three months ago, she fought side by side by side with her two best friends, Harry and Ron. The three of them had been inseparable for years. Even when Ron literally left her and Harry in the forest, he was always there with them like a ghost hovering off in the distance.

Then, things changed. She knew they would. Everything changes and nothing stays the same. When she and Ron finally got over themselves and decided to date, she’d hoped the changes would be for the better. She’d been wrong. 

For the first few weeks, it had been great. They’d spent years dancing around the attraction they’d felt for each other, so when they finally gave in, it was supposed to be magic. The only magic was how quickly any attraction she’d felt disappeared. For years, she’d written off his casual cruelty—even when it had been directed at her—but being with him made her realize that he truly meant the things he said. All those years of fighting with him hadn’t masked the love he felt for her but was who he really was deep down. He was jealous, especially of Harry. She should have figured it out three years ago when he blew up over the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but she hadn’t wanted to see it.

It wasn’t just the stuff with Ron. Her parents weren’t exactly happy with her either. After the war was over, after Voldemort was defeated for good, she and Ron went off to Australia to restore her parents’ memories. That had been a hard day. Sure, they’d been proud of her for doing what she had to do and saving the world, but they hated the fact that she’d violated their minds. They called it a kind of rape and had asked her to give them some space.

She couldn’t help remembering Ron holding her as she cried herself to sleep that night. That had been one of the good days. She’d wanted to apparate out of the country, but he convinced her to stay and fight for her parents. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t see her, and eventually she gave up trying, returning to England, to her parents’ house with Ron. It felt wrong staying there without her parents, so she moved into the Burrow with Ron’s family.

Of course, Mrs. Weasley enforced an open-door policy and had her room with Ginny, and looking back a few weeks later, she was glad of it. If she’d spent her nights curled up in Ron’s bed it would have been even harder to do what she knew needed to be done.

Having spent a few weeks in that house with that happy family when she didn’t have that was torture. Sure, things there weren’t as they were either. Fred was gone, and any time the family had gotten together while she was there, it felt like a pall had descended over everyone, but even in those times, the Weasleys had each other. Hermione had no one.

How had Harry done it every summer? How had he managed to not lose it every time he saw what his life could have been had he only had a family like the Weasleys, instead of being stuck with his aunt and uncle? Hermione had never appreciated how hard it must to have been for Harry to have seen a loving family like the Weaselys only to be forced back to the abusive environment at the Dursely’s house at the end of the school year. She’d only had to deal with it for a few weeks and it had her wanting to pull out her own hair. She’d had no choice but to leave. 

She shook herself and turned on the muggle radio she’d bought just so she could imagine that her parents were listening to the same songs all the way across the globe. It was a connection to them. She turned the dial until she found a station that was transmittable to The Leaky Cauldron, where she’d been staying since she left the Burrow two weeks ago. She’d been lucky to get any muggle technology to work there with the amount of magic radiating from Diagon Alley. For some reason, magic usually interfered with things like radios and other electronics.

It wasn’t the best radio, so the sound was a bit tinny, but she made out the opening chords of an American pop song she’d heard a few times over the past weeks of hiding out in this room. She’d never paid much attention to it, though. Aside from its complete nonsensical chorus, it sounded like every other pop song she’d ever heard.

This time she found herself really listening to it, and by the third line tears were streaming down her cheeks. ‘Hold on to the ones who care because in the end they’ll be the only ones there.’

By the time they started suggesting their listeners plant flowers, she was crying in earnest. Her heart was in her throat. Was she losing the relationships she thought most dear? She hadn’t heard from Harry since she’d left the Burrow. He’d been there too, happily making plans with Ginny while she and Ron were groping each other every chance they could get—when they weren’t sniping at each other that is.

That should have been her first clue that what they’d been building those few weeks hadn’t been a future. No, their relationship had been purely physical, and it hadn’t even been all that good. Most nights she’d had to bring herself off because Ron hadn’t been able to find her clit.

He hadn’t been her first—that distinction went to Viktor Krum. She’d been ridiculously young when they met, fifteen to his eighteen, and she still couldn’t believe her parents had let her spend some of the summer before her fifth year visiting him. For a week, she’d snuck into his room after his parents were asleep, letting him do all kinds of things to her body. She wondered if the duck footed quidditch star would forever be the best sex she’d ever had. He’d been better than Ron, but not much.

Wiping her eyes, looking blearily at the clock on the wall, she realized it was nearly eight at night, and she still hadn’t eaten, which was probably why things like American pop songs were making her cry.

Grabbing some money from the night table where she’d left it the night before, she decided to venture out for some food. While she didn’t mind The Leaky Cauldron, she wasn’t in the mood to run into someone she knew—or worse someone who simply knew of her and would want to know all about defeating Voldemort—so she decided to go into the muggle section of London for some fish and chips at a place her parents used to take her every time they finished shopping at Diagon Alley. It would hurt being there without her parents, but not having to worry about running into anyone from the Magical World would make the pain worth it.

After walking a few blocks, Hermione found her destination—a small hole in the wall place, favored by locals. Her father liked to remind her that it was one of the oldest establishments in this part of London, dating all the way back to the Conquest. Despite its history—or maybe because of it—Hermione always felt it was quite homey.

Looking at it now, she realized it looked like certain parts of Hogwarts, which made sense as they would have been built around the same time using similar methods. She didn’t know how she missed it every time she was here over the last seven years—she was known for being observant and yet she’d missed this.

So focused on this was she that she didn’t see the man waving at her until he was almost on top of her. He was familiar in the way that people you haven’t seen in years was familiar. He had shoulder length brown hair and glasses perched on his patrician nose, but also sported a small hoop earring in his right ear. Unfortunately, none of that told her who he was or how she may know him. She hadn’t spent much time in the Muggle World over the last seven years, and as he appeared to be around her own age, she assumed he must have been someone she went to school with before she received her letter from Hogwarts.

“Hermione Granger, right?”

Hermione nodded her head in answer, waiting for him to let her know who he was.

“Michael Donnelly—we went to primary school together.”

“Oh, Mickey!”

He cringed, obviously not going by his old nickname as an adult.

“No one’s called me that in years, but then, you just disappeared when we were kids, so I guess you wouldn’t know that.”

She shrugged, always hating having to come up with something to say in situations like this. Not that it had happened very often. From the moment she boarded the Hogwarts Express at eleven years old, she distanced herself from her old life and the people who populated it. She didn’t think it was even a conscious decision.

“I was accepted to a private boarding school in Scotland, so I wasn’t in the city all that often. In fact, I’m only here for another few weeks.”

“Surely, you’re not still in school. When you left, we all assumed you were accepted to some special school for brilliant students.”

Hermione chuckled. If only he knew.

“Actually I am. I had a family thing last year and skipped my last year of school, so now I’m heading back to finish my studies.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope your family is alright now—my parents wondered what happened when the Dental Office closed out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, everything happened rather quickly, so there wasn’t time to put out notice that it would be closed.”

“Now that you’re back, can we assume that your parents are too?”

She shook her head. “No, they decided to stay in Australia for a while. That’s where we were last year.”

“Oh, I see. Well, please tell them that I said hello the next time you see them.”

As they were about to part, another man approached them, his pale features and sneering face Hermione would recognize anywhere. Draco Malfoy. What the hell was he doing in a small muggle pub and why did he seem to know Michael Donnelly?

“Draco, good of you to join us,” said Michael, gesturing Malfoy over to them. “I’d like you to meet one of my old school friends. This is—”

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

“You know each other?” Michael asked, obviously taken aback, probably because most people in the muggle sections of London wouldn’t know Draco.

“We went to school together,” replied Draco, not looking at her.

“What a coincidence. Hermione, Draco is interning at my father’s medical practice. Been with us about six weeks now.”

“Really?” What was Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, doing working in a muggle doctor’s office.

Draco shrugged, still not looking at her, which should not have surprised her as the only time he’d paid attention to her at school was to make her life a living hell. She supposed this was part of the rehabilitation program being offered to the youngest Death Eaters, the ones who hadn’t committed grievous crimes in the name of their dark master. Draco, as far as Hermione could tell, hadn’t ever gone so far as to murder someone, although he’d been tasked with killing Dumbledore during their sixth year.

The three of them stood there, not saying anything for a little too long and the silence became awkward. It was only broken by the shrill beeping coming from the small pager clipped on Michael’s pants.

“Er. I have to get this.” 

He walked off, leaving Hermione and Draco standing there, staring at each other.

“So, you’re interning in the Muggle World…”

“Yeah, the Ministry gave me a year’s worth of community service with muggle organizations. I guess they wanted to show me that muggles aren’t bad people.”

“And what have you learned so far?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I know you won’t believe me, Granger, but I never completely believed the stuff I said.”

“All those times you called me a ‘mudblood’ was what, then?”

Draco’s pale face somehow went even paler.

“Can we sit, please?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Fine. I was a little shit—still am most of the time—and I have no excuse for it. None that would make up for the things I said or did to you or any of the other muggle-borns, anyway. I’m trying to be better, though.”

“And the work at Micheal’s parents’ place is helping with that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. What I know is that these people are struggling needlessly. Dr. Donnelly treats so many patients whose maladies could be cured by a simple spell and yet we don’t do anything about it.”

The anger in his voice surprised Hermione. He was worried about muggles suffering? Maybe he was changing.

“I wish I had an answer for that. Every time I come home, I wonder the same thing. Saint Mungo’s could do so much for the muggle population, but the Statute of Secrecy makes that impossible. I used to think there was a good reason for it, but now, having seen how ineffectual the Ministry can be, I wonder if the real reason behind our inaction when it comes to muggle maladies was because the Ministry doesn’t want to help them.”

“Wizards First,” Draco mumbled.

“Exactly. Voldemort was only a symptom of a bigger sickness, although you might not see it that way.”

“Believe it or not, but I agree with you.”

“You do?”

He nodded and again gestured for her to sit. This time she did.

“I learned a lot over the last year—none of it good. Having Voldemort living in my home, running his campaign of terror from my parlor, opened my eyes to a lot of things that I hadn’t seen before when it was just my dad talking about ‘the good old days.’ There is something I need to say to you, and I know it won’t make up for anything, but I need to say it. I’m sorry. Really truly sorry.”

He was sorry? Sorry for what exactly? For making her and the others like her feel unsafe? For letting Death Eaters into the castle last year? For informing on them to Umbridge in their fifth year? Did he expect her to forgive him?

He touched her hand, causing her to look up, straight into his ice blue eyes, where she saw the one thing his words hadn’t been able to fully convey. Contrition. Could he actually be sorry? A few minutes ago that seemed unimaginable, but now? Now, she didn’t know, and that scared her. If he could feel sorrow over the massive amount of hurt he caused, maybe there was hope for him. Maybe there was hope for them all.

The longer she looked at him, the longer his hand covered hers, something started to stir inside her, something she thought she’d never feel for him. That wasn’t completely true, her mind reminded her.

Back before all of this started, before battle lines had been drawn and enemies made, she’d felt this same thing for the boy in front of her. That first year, she’d been nearly a full year older than some of her classmates and because her eleventh birthday had fallen after the cut-off for the prior year, she was only a few weeks shy of her twelfth birthday when she walked through the doors of Hogwarts for the first time. Most of the other girls her year hadn’t given boys—or girls—a thought until at least the end of term, but the first time she encountered Draco on the Hogwarts Express she’d felt this same stirring.

It had been inconvenient then and even more now. He was a Slytherin. She was a Gryffindor. He a Death Eater, she a member of the Order of the Phoenix. What more could she say?

What was she even doing? Just because he expressed contrition for his actions didn’t mean he still wasn’t a shit person. He said so himself.

She cleared her throat and pulled her hand out from under his. “I have to go,” she muttered before jumping out of her seat, nearly toppling the stool over in the process, and rushing for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco watched Hermione’s hasty retreat from the pub, wondering what he’d said to elicit that reaction. Over the years, he’d definitely said and done things that would offend her. Indeed, it had been like a game to him—what could he say to rile the ‘cleverest witch of her age,’ who also happened to be one of the prettiest girls in their year. Sure, her teeth had been awful and her hair frizzy as hell, but she had the most beautiful eyes. He’d been attracted to her brain for their first two years at school. Then, one day in their third year, he’d said something truly awful to her, and she punched him. In her anger, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Unfortunately, she’d never have him. He was a bully—he’d known this, had been proud of it for most of his life.

The first time he’d called her a mudblood, he’d been shaking, knowing that it would hurt her, but also knowing that to his fellow Slytherins he’d be a hero, and that once his father found out, he’d be proud of him. It was that pride he’d striven for every day of his life. The only reason he’d even said it was that his father had called him out on his crush. He’d been too complimentary to her in some of his letters home and his father hadn’t liked that one bit.

Blood purity was the most important thing to Lucious Malfoy and so it became the most important thing to Draco too. Until it wasn’t. Until he watched one of the teachers from his school be tortured simply because she didn’t believe in blood purity. Until he heard Hermione’s screams at the hands of his Aunt Bellatrix. At night, he could still hear the screaming. It woke him up from a dead sleep most nights. He didn’t want to imagine how she was affected by it. Did she suffer too? She must. He couldn’t see how she didn’t.

No wonder she jerked away from him as if his hand had burned her. He probably made her skin crawl. Just thinking about the boy he'd been less than a year ago made _his_ skin crawl, so could he blame her for her reaction to him?

So lost in his thoughts was he that he hadn’t seen Michael come back to the table. He really liked the Donnellys and liked working in their medical offices, even if he believed some of their treatments to be ridiculous.

“Where’d Hermione go?” Michael asked, looking around the pub as if she’d materialize in front of him. Of course, she could materialize out of thin air, but Michael didn’t know that.

“She left. I think I said something I shouldn’t have. I have a habit of that with her.” He shrugged. It was true. He _did_ have a habit of saying the wrong thing to Hermione, except this time he hadn’t meant to and didn’t know what it was he said that had her running from him.

“I’m sure you didn’t. She seemed a bit preoccupied when she walked in, so she probably remembered something she was supposed to do.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Hermione Granger I know.”

“Oh—I hope she got her food. I practically ambushed her as she was walking into the pub. I hadn’t seen her in years and her parents just disappeared one day last year, so seeing her was a complete surprise.”

“They disappeared?”

“Yeah, one day they were working in their dental office—it was only a few doors down from my dad’s place—and the next, the office was boarded up and their phones went unanswered. It was bloody weird, but then most of 1997 was weird.”

He didn’t know the half of it. 1997 wasn’t weird—it was deadly. Voldemort wanted it that way. He’d wanted it that way too. At first. Then, things changed, and he’ll forever regret the role he played.

Draco didn’t know how to address it, though—not with a muggle and not without breaking the Statute of Secrecy or ending up in some muggle mental institution—so he asked the first thing that came to mind. “Granger didn’t eat?”

“Probably not. She was on her way in when I saw her, so unless she was stopping in here for shits and giggles, my guess is no, she did not eat.”

Draco thought for a minute, and even though he figured it was probably a bad idea, decided to go for it anyway.

“I’m going to get her some food.”

Michael’s eyebrow shot up. “You know where she’s staying?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

For a witch, even one who was muggle-born, the only logical place to stay in London was at The Leaky Cauldron. As luck would have it, he was staying there too. He’d pick up some food and then get Tom, the bartender, to tell him which room was Granger’s, and if that didn’t work, then he’d have some extra food for himself.

Hermione was back in her room a little over a half hour when there was a knock at the door. She couldn’t imagine who would be looking for her, although for a brief second she hoped? Feared? That it might be Malfoy.

She had no idea what had come over her in the fish shop, but a lesser person would blame it on her lack of food. Hermione knew herself better than that. She’d gone for far longer periods of time without food while on the run in the Forest of Dean and she’d never had inappropriate feelings for people she shouldn’t have feelings for. The idea that she was lusting after Draco Malfoy of all people was utterly ridiculous, but she knew what she felt.

The knocking came again, more insistent this time, until finally she pulled the door open and gasped at what she saw. Draco Malfoy leaning against the door frame and carrying a to go box from the pub.

“What are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“Michael told me you hadn’t eaten, and I felt bad that I ran you off before you could get your food.”

“You didn’t run me off. I just had to go.”

“Sure, you had to go so badly that you ran out of there as if the hounds of Hell were on your heels. Anyway, I owe you an apology for whatever it was I said, so I got you some food.”

“You don’t owe me an apology—not for anything that happened today, anyway—but I won’t turn down the food.”

She gestured him in, part of her wondering what she was doing while the part of her that was on the verge of chewing off her own arm didn’t particularly care. Even a few weeks ago, she would have turned him down on principle at best or assumed he was trying to poison her at worst, but there was something different about this Draco. They’d managed to have a civil conversation in which he admitted being wrong about muggles and even showed compassion for them. This Draco she wanted to know.

She took the box from him and placed it on the table between them. After opening it, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “How many people were you planning to feed with this?”

He shrugged, but she detected a slight blush to his pale skin. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“A little?”

“A lot."

She went over to the small beaded bag that she kept inside the dresser. Ever since the night of Bill and Fleur’s wedding, the night the Ministry fell and she, Ron, and Harry went on the run, she’d carried that bag. It held most of her worldly possessions thanks to an expansion charm she’d placed on it, and out of it, she pulled out a couple of plates and place settings.

“Since there’s so much food, why don’t you eat with me?”

“You—you want me to eat with you?”

She’d obviously surprised him, but it felt right. Maybe spending time with him—or rather him spending time with her—would help him to see past her blood status and see her as a flesh and blood person. He’d already made more strides than she’d ever imagined he could through his internship with the Donnellys.

“Why not? It’s a brand new day. Why not see where we can go from here?”


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next hour, they talked in a way they never had before. In the past, they’d only ever spoke in snide remarks on thinly veiled threats, but other than the few short minutes in the pub earlier that evening, they’d never had a real conversation. 

They talked about anything and everything, except for the things that could break their fragile truce. Neither of them mentioned the events of two months past or anything that had happened since Voldemort had retaken the power he’d lost when he killed the Potters nearly twenty years ago. They both knew that eventually they would have to talk about those things, but for the time being, they were content with what Draco considered first date conversation. Not that this was a date. There could never be anything between them—not after all the things he did not just to her but to the thousands of others like her whose only crime had been not being magical enough. Or being magical when logic dictated that they shouldn’t be.

As they finished their meal, Hermione finally broached the subject they’d danced around the entire time they ate. “So, this internship with the Donnellys—”

“It’s part of my ‘rehabilitation’ into society,” he answered before she could finish the question. “I’m one of the lucky ones. Most of the others who joined up have ended up in Azkaban, but I was spared prison. I’m sure you already knew that, though, since you’re so close to the person responsible for me being allowed to walk the streets while most of my friends are not.”

“What are you talking about—who’s responsible for your freedom?”

He looked at her, and there was no mistaking the confusion on her face. 

“Harry. He spoke on my behalf at my hearing and convinced them that I could still be a functioning member of society.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said, frowning. “He’d talked about people being brainwashed by Voldemort, but never mentioned speaking to the Ministry for anyone.”

She must have seen something on his face because a moment later she asked, “You can’t possibly be angry that he helped you avoid a prison sentence.”

He shrugged. “I’m not—not really. It’s just that sometimes I think it would have been easier had I joined my friends in Azkaban. Being out here, working with the Donnellys, has made me realize how wrong I was about everything, which I know was Harry’s point in recommending this as being my sentence. Well, this among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I’m heading back to school in a few weeks, repeating my final year with a focus on Muggle Studies.”

“You’re going back to school?”

He nodded. “I’m not the only one, either. A lot of people who were supposed to graduate with us are going back for another year to make up for the way last year was taught. I don’t know anyone who learned a damn thing—and that includes my fellow Slytherins, many of whom were helping the Carrows torturing people.”

“Did you—”

“No. I couldn’t. Not after watching Voldemort roast Professor Burbage over a spit on my dining room table. I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it after hearing your screams.”

“You heard that?”

“Everyone did,” he answered, unable to look at her as he did so. “I should probably go.”

“Draco? You know I don’t blame you for what your aunt did to me, right?”

“You don’t? How couldn’t you?”

“When those men brought us to your parents’ house, they trotted you out to identify us, but you wouldn’t. You had to know it was us, but you weren’t willing to tell them they had ‘the trio,’ the most wanted people in the Wizarding World. Why was that Draco? Why didn’t you give us away?”

He laughed, but it held a bitter edge. “I didn’t have to tell them who you were—they knew. They wanted me to know it—to know that Voldemort would always win. It was both a warning and a reward. A reward for helping them last year.”

“And the warning?”

“Not to run. If they could find Harry Potter, then they could find anyone.”

They were silent for a moment as the words fell like knives.

“Did you want to run?” Hermione eventually asked, her hand reaching out to cover his the way he’d done to her earlier.

“Yes—and no. I wanted desperately to be anywhere other than where I was, but I was too afraid to do anything to stop it. I hated being in the house, but also hated being at school, watching what the Carrows and Snape were doing to the one place I’d truly thought of as home.”

“He was working with us, you know. Snape.”

“Yeah, I remember Potter saying something about him being Dumbledore’s man.”

“He may have been Dumbledore’s greatest weapon. I won’t lie and say that he was a good person because he wasn’t. The way he treated the people he didn’t like was little better than the way Voldemort treated those he deemed inferior, and he will never get a pass from me. However, he did the right thing in the end, and sometimes that’s enough.”

Was she saying what he thought she was? She couldn’t be because he hadn’t done the right thing at any point in the last few years. He may have wanted to do something, but he hadn’t. He’d been too afraid to do anything that could make him a target for Voldemort’s wrath and his father’s displeasure.

“I wish I’d been brave enough to do more.”

“More? What do you mean?”

He didn’t say anything at first, but for some reason he found talking to her, admitting his secrets to her was easy.

“You know that Dobby was my houself, right? Well, when I was a kid, I used to talk to him a lot. Neither of my parents really talked to me. They didn’t see me as anything more than an extension of themselves. Oh, I know they loved me. I know that my mother lied to Voldemort because Harry told her I was alive the last time he’d seen me, but I never felt that love growing up, so I’d talk to Dobby. After our first year at school, I went home and told Dobby of everything that happened and everyone I met. That included Harry.”

Comprehension dawned on her face. “You’re the one who told Dobby about the diary and what your father was planning for the school year!”

“I didn’t tell him everything, but I told him enough. I didn’t realize he was going to use what I told him to stop Harry from returning to school, but I should have. Whenever I brought him up, Dobby always perked up.”

“I’d always wondered how he even knew about Harry but figured that your father spoke freely in front of him because the mark of a good slave is never being seen.”

“I don’t doubt that is true. Maybe he did pick up some things that way, but he got a lot from me, which is something I’m glad my father never learned. He would have been extremely disappointed in me and he would have made that abundantly clear.”

Her hand moved from its place on his and he felt the loss immediately. It was like something inside him went cold the moment she removed it. He hadn’t even realized the comfort that small touch had given him until it was gone. Strange, really. He’d never felt anything like it.

While he contemplated what that meant, she moved closer to him and embraced him. Not once in his entire life did he think he’d be on the receiving end of a hug from Hermione Granger, so he never wondered what that would feel like, but now he knew. It felt like home, so he did the only thing he thought to—he kissed her.

The moment his lips met hers, Hermione felt like she was on fire. The kiss was tentative at first and she knew without having to ask that this was because he was as unsure about what they were doing as she was. All she truly knew was that she liked it. She liked the feel of his lips on hers, the strength in his arms as he pulled her into his lap, and the softness of his hair as she ran her fingers through it.

He used his tongue to part her lips, sweeping it inside to dance with her own, and his teeth to nip at her lower lip. She’d been kissed before, been made love to before, but whatever was happening to her was different. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before and while part of her was afraid of that feeling, another part reveled in it. 

She broke the kiss to stare at the boy across from her. His white-blonde hair was a mess, hot color stained his pale face, and shock shone brightly in his ice blue eyes. He was just as surprised as she was about what they’d just done. What they wanted to continue doing.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she placed a finger on his lips to stop him.

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. We both wanted that—that and more—and my guess based on the ever increasing bulge in your jeans, is that we both still want it.”

“Hermione, this is insane. Of course, I still want you. I think I’ve always wanted you, but we shouldn’t do this.”

“Right now, I don’t care about should and shouldn’t. Can or can’t. All I care about is feeling something other than utter despair and loneliness, and for some reason I want that with you. Now, are you going to take your shirt off or do I have to do that for you?”

Not waiting for another word, he took off his shirt and followed it up by peeling hers off of her, kissing the skin above her bra before removing it. She gasped as his mouth closed over her nipple, suckling at her until she moaned his name.

Her arms went around his neck as he ravished her breasts, switching from one to the other, doing this while he got up from the chair he’d been sitting in, and carrying her to the bed.

Surrounded by pillows, she watched as he stripped her of first her jeans and then the plain underwear she wore. Then, he was on top of her, pushing her into the pillows, and kissing her as if their lives depended on it.

He kissed his way down her body, stopping at her navel to swirl his tongue inside it, mimicking what he’d soon be doing to her pussy, and her breath caught in her throat. Before she could catch it, his mouth was on the move again, finally reaching the exact right spot.

She expected him to dive right in, to plunge his tongue inside her, but he didn’t. He kissed the center of her, his lips barely touching her, but setting her aflame anyway. He kissed her there several more times, each time his hot breath sending waves of pleasure through her body. Finally, finally his tongue slipped inside her folds, circling her clit until she was nothing more than a pulsing throb.

She panted, moaning load enough that she was sure anyone passing by would know exactly what was happening in that room, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, especially when he took her clit between his lips and sucked it. Her world centered around that one spot until she was sobbing his name, until her inner walls clenched around his tongue, and she cried out.

She came down and felt him on top of her again, the fabric of his jeans rough against her sensitive skin, and he kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips, his tongue, and it was a heady feeling.

As they continued to kiss, she slipped her hands between them to unbutton his jeans, and a moment later his hands joined hers. Once his jeans were off, it was only a matter of seconds before he was inside of her. He was big, so she was glad that he gave her a moment to get used to his size before he started moving. With each thrust, he pushed further into her, brushing her clit but not using enough pressure for her to erupt. 

“Please,” she begged.

“Please, what?” He asked.

“Make me come, Draco. I need to come.”

“Not yet,” he replied, kissing her before turning her so that she was on top of him. “Make yourself come.”

So she did. With her hands on his shoulders, she braced herself as she moved her hips up and down on his cock, squeezing him each time she did it. Before long, her legs were shaking, and he was swearing up at her. Finally, she was coming. Pleasure swept through her body as she rode him, milking him for all he was worth as his own climax hit him.

They must have fallen asleep because the next thing Hermione knew it was midnight and darkness filled the room. It was a weird feeling to be wrapped up in Draco Malfoy’s arms, having his legs intertwined with her own. This was the boy she’d loathed for seven years and yet he was the only one she wanted. It was completely fucked up.

Looking up at the ceiling, she couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her. The old Hermione would never have done what she did. The old Hermione would be horrified at her actions. The old Hermione, however, was gone. The new Hermione? She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t have a plan further than finishing her degree. She still wanted to help people, wanted to make the Wizarding World a better, more inclusive place, but how she was going to do that was up in the air.

For seven years, the plan had simply been to defeat Voldemort, but if the last few months had taught her anything it was that even though Voldemort was gone, his followers were still there, lying in wait until their time came again.

Midnight, however, was not the best time for making plans, especially when she had a hot boy in her bed. A hot boy, who was waking up little by little the longer they lay together. By the time he rolled on top of her, he was so hard.

She was still somewhat sensitive from her earlier orgasms, so it didn’t take long for her to be on the verge again. She moaned as he hit her g-spot at just the right angle to send her spiraling, and even as she came down he continued his hard, rhythmic thrusts until she was making sounds she’d never heard come from herself. She was neither old Hermione nor new Hermione in that moment, but pure animal. This animal part of her ran her nails down Draco’s back, scratches appearing almost instantly. Her head rested in the cradle of his neck where his shoulder joined it and she bit him. Animal Hermione was a wild woman, and nothing had ever pleased her more than knowing that this side of her existed.

After a while, his thrusts got less skilled and Hermione could feel him losing control. That loss of control fed into her arousal, sending her over again, but this time she took Draco with her.

So wrapped up in each other, neither had heard the banging on the door until it was too late and the door exploded off its hinges. In the doorway stood the last person she wanted to see at that moment. Ron Weasley.


	4. Chapter 4

No one spoke for a few minutes, but then Ron let out a roar and charged the bed. If it hadn’t been for her quick thinking and the wand she kept next to the bed, she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from attacking Draco. Instead, he bounced off the shield charm she cast around the bed, protecting them from her angry ex-boyfriend.

“What is this, Hermione? You ran from my bed to his? Is this why you left?”

“No! It wasn’t like that,” she exclaimed.

“Then, what was it like?” Asked Draco from next to her, disappointment in his eyes. She could see he was hurt and had assumed the same thing as Ron—that she’d slept with him to make Ron jealous. If only he knew how easy it was to get under Ron’s skin like that. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time right then to clear up his misassumption.

“I can’t do this right now. We’re naked and he wants to kill you,” she said exasperated.

“It looks to me like you don’t have a choice, but I’m going to make it easier for you.”

Before she could ask how he could possibly make this easier, she heard a loud crack and he was gone. Disapparated. She and Ron were alone, and it was the last thing she wanted.

“What are you doing here, Ron?”

“What—what am I doing here? Hermione, it took me weeks to track you here and you’re angry with me? You just disappeared from the burrow one day.”

“I left a note.”

“Yeah. ‘It isn’t working—I’ve got to go.’ Some note.”

She’d been in such a state when she left that she didn’t know what she’d written in that note, but she knew that it wasn’t good enough to explain things. She just had to get out of there, away from all the happy people.

“I’m sorry. I know you deserved better than that, but you had to see I wasn’t happy.”

As the words left her mouth, she realized that he hadn’t noticed, which made everything so much worse. She’d been so invisible to him that he hadn’t known how miserable she’d been.

“I thought we were happy together. Things were so good. You and me. Harry and Ginny. It is what we always wanted.”

“I did want that, but something changed. I don’t even know what it was, but I just couldn’t do it. And I couldn’t face you. I’d wanted that—us—for so long that not wanting it, being so deeply unhappy was embarrassing. I was the girl who always had a back-up plan for her back-up plans, and there I was with no plan at all.”

She was rambling and they both knew it.

“And so you just left, and what ran to Malfoy?”

“No! I’ve been here—alone—for weeks. We ran into each other last night and one thing lead to another.”

“Seriously? He was a Death Eater not two months ago! How could you even let him touch you after the things he did?”

She wasn’t a crier, but she could feel the tears pricking behind her eyes. How could she explain the changes she’d seen in Draco to someone who didn’t believe people could change? Unlike Harry, who she knew believed that everyone had good in them, Ron truly saw the world as being divided between good guys and Death Eaters. He wouldn’t understand this.

“Well?”

“I’m not getting into this with you Ron. You need to go.”

“You’re seriously kicking me out?”

“Yes! I didn’t invite you in here—you just burst in and asserted your dominance, so please just go.”

“Hey, you were screaming! I thought you were in danger, so I blasted my way into the room.”

“You couldn’t tell sex screams from danger screams? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Please just go.”

“Whatever. I hope you have a great life with Malfoy,” he said just before disapparating.

#

Later that morning, Hermione went looking for Draco. They needed to talk about what happened between them as well as what happened with Ron after he left. She had no idea what she was going to say to him, but she knew something needed to be said. She didn’t want him to think that she slept with him to make Ron jealous or anything like that, but where they went from here, if there was anywhere for them to go? She was just as clueless as she’d been at midnight.

Ron had been right about one thing. Draco had been a Death Eater less than three months ago. She’d ignored the outline of his Dark Mark while they’d been together the night before, but she knew it was there. She knew that only a few months ago he could have used it to summon Voldemort with just a touch of his wand. She also knew that like Ron most people would judge her for being with him. Could she deal with that sort of thing if they chose to have something more than just a one-night stand? She wasn’t sure, so she knew that whatever this was couldn’t be more than just last night, and that made her unbelievable sad. She’d liked the person she was with last night, had seen something within him that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

Her first stop was seeing Tom down in the bar, but he wouldn’t tell her anything. Either Draco wasn’t staying at the Leaky Cauldron or Tom was still upset with her over the busted door, even though she fixed it moments after Ron left—after she put on some clothes, of course. She suspected the latter.

Next, she walked over to Donnelly Medical to see if he was there, only to be told that it was his day off and that he wasn’t expected back until the following Monday. She ended up talking with Dr. Donnelly for a little while because it would have been rude not to talk to him. Her parents would have been seriously disappointed in her. They may not be speaking just then, but she hoped to eventually gain their forgiveness.

After about twenty minutes and promising to send his love to her parents, she made her way out of the doctor’s office. She wasn’t sure where else to try. She could go back to The Leaky Cauldron and try banging on doors until she found his, but she didn’t want to seem desperate or deranged and she feared that that was exactly how people would see her.

As a last resort she went back to the pub to see if maybe he decided to hang out there for the day, and was surprised to see him sitting by himself, nursing what looked like a pint of Boddington’s. It wasn’t her favorite beer—she’d been drinking with her parents a few times the prior year before she sent them away—but it wasn’t bad. 

For a minute, she just stared at him, which she hated to admit was something that she used to do all the time when they were in school. She couldn’t count the number of times they were the last people in the library before Madame Pince kicked them out at the end of the night. If she was the cleverest witch of her age as many people liked to describe her, Draco was the most ambitious wizard of his. They’d constantly competed for top marks—even if only in her head, but she believed he saw things the same way—so they practically lived in the library. She also imagined that he’d spend hours in the Slytherin Common Room studying the same way she haunted the Gryffindor Common Room. The only difference being that she’d striven to do her best for herself whereas he’d been motivated by pleasing his father.

That wasn’t supposition on her part—she’d overheard him telling his goons, Crabbe and Goyle that the only reason he pushed himself so hard was to make his father proud. That was the first time she truly felt sorry for him. There were others, especially in their sixth year when it was obvious that something was wrong. Of course, the thing that had been bothering him was that he’d been ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore for him, but looking back on how things were that year, she knew deep down that he hadn’t wanted to do it. She wondered how many things he’d done over the years solely to make his father happy. 

She must have made some sound because he looked up from his beer, his eyes meeting hers and the sadness there made her want to cry. Slowly, she walked over to him and sat down in the chair facing him.

“What are you doing here, Granger?” He snarled at her, refusing to look at her.

“Looking for you,” she admitted.

“Why? Weasley went back home to his mother?”

“Yes. I sent him home right after you left.”

He looked up at her and she saw surprise mixed with hurt clouding his vision.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked a moment later.

“Send Ron home? Because I didn’t want him there. I didn’t invite him to my room—he came storming in because he thought I was in danger.”

“Danger? From what?”

“An orgasm apparently,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Didn’t he know the difference between your orgasm scream and your scared scream?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? A part of me will always love Ron—he and Harry were a big part of my childhood and I’d convinced myself that he and I belonged together because other than Viktor he was the only boy who looked at me as more than just a capable witch—but the physical aspects of our relationship weren’t exactly the best. The way we argued over the years, you’d think that type of passion would become incendiary in the bedroom, but then you’d be wrong. I certainly was.”

She cringed, knowing that Ron would hate for her to be talking about their relationship like this, especially with Draco, but at the moment she didn’t particularly care about hurting Ron’s feelings. He’d certainly never cared about hurting hers.

“Honestly, I’d rather not think about Ron Weasley and sex.”

“Neither would I,” she said, laughing. 

They sat silently for a few minutes, while Draco sipped at his tea. She knew she needed to apologize to him now, to explain herself, but she didn’t know how.

“Did you sleep with me to get back at him?” He asked so quietly that she barely heard him.

“No. I didn’t think of him at all, which I know is horrible because technically he was still my boyfriend, even though leaving was a pretty obvious sign that I no longer wished to be with him, so I guess I was cheating, but the only thing I could think of was you, wanting to feel you inside of me.”

She blushed as she said it but didn’t care. She’d enjoyed herself last night and found that she wanted a repeat. Crazy as that was.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“That Weasley and Krum were the only people who see you as more than just ‘the cleverest witch of your age.’”

She blinked at that. Was he saying that he’d been attracted to her all along?

“The first time I saw you—really saw you—was the day you hit me. I was embarrassed as all hell and absolutely deserved it, but the moment before you hit me, I saw something in your eyes. I saw the hurt I’d caused as well as the anger, but I also saw your beauty. I know I already apologized to you for that, but I really am sorry I said it. I was sorry even as the words came out of my mouth and even sorrier now.”

“Hitting you felt so good. I put three years’ worth of anger and disappointment into that punch.”

“Disappointment?”

“When we first met, you were a real tool, but I could see how lonely you were. Each time you were mean to someone, I don’t know, it was as if I could tell that the lonely boy I met on the train was moving further and further away from who he was supposed to be.”

“And who was I supposed to be?”

“I don’t know. I think—I think I saw something in you that I’m starting to see again. He was the one who was with me last night, and he is the one sitting with me now. I didn’t mean to hurt you last night.”

He smiled at her and something inside her lit up.

“You may not have noticed, but my father did a real number on me. Nothing I ever did was right no matter how hard I tried, and so I’ve had a hard time seeing myself as worthy.”

“Worthy of what?”

“Anything. When Weasley showed up like that, all of my insecurities came rushing back. I couldn’t understand why you would choose to sleep with me, so I assumed that you did it to mess with him. Who better to piss him off than me?”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“If I was the type of girl to try to piss my ex off, I would have made a move on Harry. Ron’s ridiculously jealous of him and has been for years. They may be friends and they’d definitely die for each other, but Ron has always seen Harry as being better than him. He looks at the fame Harry had just for surviving Voldemort’s attack as a baby, and he wants some of that. It’s the reason he joined to quidditch team at school.”

“He wanted the glory of being on a winning team?”

“It was more than that. He wanted people to see him as special. Actually, he was the same way with Krum. He hated how much everyone fawned over Krum. He especially hated the fact that Krum liked me and that he was the one to take me to the Yule Ball. But he was also so enamored with him. When he first showed up, Ron wanted him to be his friend—probably so he’d get a hit of Krum’s fame.”

“I can’t blame him for his reaction at the Yule Ball. You were beautiful in that blue dress.”

“You thought I was beautiful?”

“Of course. You were the most beautiful girl there.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Weren’t you there with Pansy?”

“I was. She was not very happy with me when she noticed me noticing you.”

“I imagine so. She hated me.”

He shook his head at this. “No, she hated the _idea_ of you. You weren’t like us and you didn’t _want_ to be like us. Up until the night of the ball, she hated you the same way she hated anyone who was different, but after the ball was when she started to hate you personally.”

“Well, that makes me feel a lot better,” she said sardonically.

“It wasn’t meant to make you feel better. I just wanted you to know that I’ve always seen you. I may not have known what to do about it, but it was there.”

“I saw you too. Every time you stayed late in the library, I watched you even when I told myself I wouldn’t. I just wish we could have talked like this back then. Maybe things would have been different.”

“You mean maybe I wouldn’t have become a Death Eater?” He shook his head before continuing. “That’s where I was always heading. Nothing could have changed that. I was exactly who my father wanted me to be. I did everything he wanted me to do. That lonely boy you saw was so lonely because he had no one to turn to for help. He never saw a way out.”

“Maybe if you’d had someone who didn’t think that way in your life, you would have seen that way out.”

“Don’t you get it? My father would have found a way to ruin any kind of friendship I had with someone who didn’t share his same beliefs! I wrote to him that first year. Told him everything I did at school and about all the people I met. I must have been too kind in my descriptions of you because he let me have it when I got home for the summer. It was the reason why I spent so much time with Dobby that year; Father made him my keeper. I had no privacy. He checked my correspondence to make sure I wasn’t sending letters to ‘undesirable people.’”

“I take it he meant people like me.”

“Yeah. He seriously considered making me transfer to Durmstrang for my second year because he thought going to school with so many muggle-born children would corrupt me. If Mother hadn’t intervened, I probably would have ended up there.”

“I’m glad she did. I wouldn’t have been six years ago, but I am now.”

She smiled at him, getting up from her seat to kiss him on the cheek before pulling him from his chair.

“Have you already paid for that?” She asked, indicating his beer.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she replied, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the pub.

Once they were outside, she did what she’d wanted to do from the moment she sat down with him. She kissed him, infusing it with all of the emotions he’d dragged up inside of her. All of her wanting. All of her anger and fear. They turned the kiss into something more than just a kiss, and that should have scared her. But it didn’t. It made her bold.

Draco broke the kiss; his eyes searching hers. “What are we doing?”

She didn’t misconstrue his meaning. She knew what he was asking. She only wished she had an answer.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I want to take you back to my room and fuck you until we can’t see straight. Can we do that?”

Instead of answering, he took her hands again and the twisty turning feeling of disapparation filled her senses.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few weeks passed in a haze of sexual positions, but by September first neither of them had figured out what they were doing. Any time either of them attempted to talk about it, they found themselves talking in circles. They both wanted to continue seeing each other, but couldn’t figure out how to do that and not hurt everyone they knew. Draco wasn’t as concerned with this as most of his friends and family were either dead or in Azkaban. His father would absolutely hate it, but at this point, he didn’t care what his father thought. The fact that his father would simply hate that he was happier than he’d ever been only made him want this relationship even more. He’d never smiled as much as he had over the last few weeks with Hermione—and it wasn’t just the sex. They talked. A lot.

A couple nights before they were set to go back to school, they had dinner with the Donnelly’s. Surprisingly, he was going to miss them. He hadn’t spent any time with muggles before being assigned to intern with them, and if they were representative of muggles as a whole, everything his father had taught him, everything they’d made him believe was wrong. Through his work for them, he discovered a desire to help muggles, which he knew would come as a surprise to anyone who’d known him over the last seven years.

He’d brought this desire to help the muggle communities of England up to Hermione one night and she just smiled at him. He was coming to love her smile. He knew that a few years earlier she’d had Madame Pomfrey shrink them because of one of his jinxes, and every time he saw them, he wanted to slap the boy he was back then. At the same time, he worried that he might revert to that person when he got back to school. He wanted to tell Hermione about this fear, but couldn’t do it.

Their school letters arrived a week before they were set to head back, and it came as a surprise that Professor McGonagall knew they were together as their letters were both addressed to the same room in The Leaky Cauldron. Neither of them said anything, but he couldn’t help wondering if Hermione was embarrassed to know that they weren’t exactly in a privacy bubble. He was definitely worried what people thought about the fact that they were together. They hadn’t been hiding—Tom knew they were sharing a room now and he had to know about what happened the night Ron showed up—but they’d successfully fooled themselves into thinking that other people didn’t know about them.

They were so surprised by how the letters were addressed that at first they didn’t notice the small paragraph at the end of them, explaining that they wouldn’t be allowed to live in the same dorms as the younger students because they were eighteen now. They would be given alternate lodging, but it didn’t say what those lodgings were. Draco just hoped that he and Hermione would be more easily able to see each other wherever these lodgings were. It wouldn’t exactly have been easy to explain why she was in the dungeons or he was in Gryffindor Tower.

If worse came to worse, there was always The Room of Requirement. It was never talked about, but everyone knew that many a student has gotten lucky in that room. Draco didn’t know if it survived the battle, but assumed it did. He didn’t doubt he’d be able to convince Hermione to meet up with him there.

The morning of September first arrived under the cover of London’s normal fog. He’d been stressed about going back the night before and he knew Hermione was worried about him. He assumed that was why she woke him up with her mouth on his hard cock. Fuck. He’d liked that. He also rather liked the quiet breakfast he and Hermione shared in their room after they’d spent an hour getting deliciously sweaty in bed. He’d half expected her to be anxiously pacing the room, making sure that neither of them had left anything behind, but instead she seemed relaxed and ready to get back to the normal day-to-day life of being a witch at England’s most prestigious wizarding school—not that either of them really knew what passed for normal at Hogwarts. There had been very few normal days at school over the last few years. He acknowledged his part in this and hoped to move passed it this year. As far as he knew, no one was planning to overthrow the school—or the government—this year. Then, again, he wasn’t exactly privy to neo-Death Eater groups, several of which had reached out to him over the summer.

He hadn’t mentioned this to Hermione because he wasn’t interested in joining any of them and he didn’t want her to think that he was backsliding into his old ways. He needed her to understand that he truly wanted to be a good person and that he was dedicated to becoming the person she thought he could be.

Eventually, they checked out of The Leaky Cauldron, gave Tom their keys, and headed to King’s Cross Station. Hermione sent their trunks ahead of them and then they each apparated into the station. It was the most relaxed first day of school that he’d ever had.

When they appeared at the station, he felt as if all eyes were on them, especially since their arrival coincided with that of the Weasleys. Ron was not present, but Harry had apparently decided to see his girlfriend off for her final year. Other than the surprise of seeing him arrive with Hermione, Harry didn’t have any reaction to his presence. If Draco was a better person, he’d go up to Harry and thank him for what he did on his behalf, but he wasn’t. Someday he’d get there, though. He hoped.

He knew that Hermione would need to stop and speak with them, so he indicated that he would meet her on the train. They hadn’t discussed telling people how they’d spent the last few weeks, but he hoped that she wouldn’t want to hide. He also hoped that this morning didn’t signal the end to their relationship. That the morning sex wasn’t also goodbye sex.

Making his way onto the scarlet steam engine, he encountered his first problem. He didn’t know where to sit. Usually, he and his Slytherin friends sat together in one car, but even if his friends were still going to school, he knew that Hermione wouldn’t be safe there and that neither would he by simply being with her. Turning down the invitations to join all of those groups probably wouldn’t help matters, either.

He walked from car to car until he found a relatively empty one—the only other occupant being Luna Lovegood. He cringed, remembering how she’d been held prisoner in his house for several months last year because Voldemort wanted her father to stop printing the truth of what he was doing. They hadn’t exactly run in the same circles before the war, but he’d known of her. The impression he’d gotten was of a dreamy girl whose head was firmly up in the clouds. He did know, however, that she had been close with Hermione and her friends and had been part of the group present at the Ministry when Voldemort revealed himself a few years ago. 

He made his way through the car, hoping to find another relatively empty one where he and Hermione could sit when Luna noticed him. She made a low surprised sound that told Draco that she wasn’t happy to see him—and why would she be? She didn’t know how much he’d changed over the last few months or that his heart hadn’t been in it in the first place.

“I’m just passing through,” he assured her as he kept walking.

She nodded and turned back to the magazine she was reading. The Quibbler. Before the war, the magazine was known for conspiracy theories about Sirius Black and creatures that no sane person believed in, but starting with an article in his fifth year, it had become a well-known anti-Voldemort publication.

Just as he was about to leave the car, she called out to him. “That’s a lot of luggage.”

“It’s not all mine,” he replied, not sure if he should tell her that half of it was Hermione’s.

Luna tipped her head to the side as if trying to figure out the answer to a rather hard arithmancy problem. “Are they making you work as punishment?”

“They?” He asked, confused.

“The Ministry.”

“No, I’m just helping someone with their stuff.”

“Who?” She asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Me,” came a voice from the back of the car as Hermione made her way over to them.

Luna jumped up from her seat and ran over to meet Hermione, who was halfway to them. 

“Hermione! I’m so happy to see you. I wrote to you at the Burrow, but Ginny replied that you’d left suddenly.”

She glared in Draco’s direction, startling him. He didn’t think the dreamy girl he’d been told about could shoot daggers from her eyes, but apparently, she could.

“Stop that,” Hermione scolded. “It had nothing to do with him. I was going through some things and needed to be alone for a while.”

The anger on Luna’s face disappeared to be replaced by sympathy. 

“Are you okay? Last year was a lot.”

“I’m doing better now, but yeah, a lot is a bit of an understatement. For all of us,” she said, looking at Draco and holding a hand out to him.

He made his way over to her and gripped her hand like a lifeline. He had a feeling he’d need it over the next few months as more and more people found out about them. He had to admit that he was surprised she’d out them to her friend so soon, especially with the reaction Luna had to him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m good, Luna. Really.”

Luna was silent for a few seconds and Draco wondered what was going through her mind—if she thought he’d bewitched Hermione and was making her say these things.

“As long as you’re sure,” she finally replied before asking, “Are you going to sit with me?” She cocked her head in his direction, indicating that he was meant to join them.

Without a word, Hermione lead him to the booth where Luna had been sitting.

They’d been sitting there, awkwardly talking for an hour when the door crashed open and Ginny Weasley entered the car. She was with a few other Gryffindor girls and when she saw Hermione, her eyes flashed fire. Draco only prayed that she didn’t decide to jinx them. He’d been on the receiving end of her jinxes before, and did not want to deal with that again.

“How could you?” Ginny demanded of Hermione, glaring balefully at her. “How could you disappear on my brother—on me—and hook up with him?”

“It wasn’t like that, Ginny.”

“So, you didn’t spend every waking moment for months fucking my brother only to run off next to be found in bed with him?”

Draco tried to slip out of the booth, but Hermione grabbed his hand, stopping him from leaving.

“I won’t deny any of that. I did sleep with Ron, I did leave, and I did hook up with Draco, but I didn’t do any of those things maliciously. I didn’t want to hurt Ron, but I just couldn’t deal with things any more. And, not that it is any of your business, but I was alone for weeks before starting anything up with Draco.”

The two girls glared at each other, angry color staining their cheeks, and Draco again worried that Ginny might attempt to jinx them. Then, the strangest thing happened. Ginny sat down next to Luna, and Draco thought that maybe she was going to drop things. But he quickly realized he was wrong. Instead of including Hermione in the conversation, Ginny continued as if neither of them was there.

He could see the hurt in Hermione’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do for her, but knew that they couldn’t just sit there as if nothing was wrong. Getting an idea, he turned to her and said, “Let’s go.”

They stood up and Draco pulled her behind him, leading her out of the car.

“Where are we going?” She asked as they entered another car.

“I know a place where we can be alone. I just hope no one else is using it.”


End file.
